


Misfits and Freaks

by MadamaVolpe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, It'll be cute at some point I swear, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14172153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamaVolpe/pseuds/MadamaVolpe
Summary: Once, the hardest thing you had to face was which brand of cereal to buy. Now it was how not to piss off two junkers who had exploded into your life. Easy, right?





	Misfits and Freaks

Fate had a really funny way of working, when it came to you. Luck had never been on your side. Scuffed knees, black eyes, broken bones; misfortune seemed to stalk you like a wolf, even when you were little. Your legs still bore scars earned from climbing frames and treks in the woods, though they were faint and made you smile whenever you saw them, trophies from the unabashed happiness you felt when you had earned them.

Not that you weren’t happy now, of course, but...well, your life was ‘lackluster’ to put it mildly. You had an average job and an average apartment with an average car. That was the problem, everything was...average. You weren’t unhappy, by any means, but disenchanted. You’d gone from happily exploring forests to living in a busy city with no friends and a lonely apartment to come back to. Most of the time you curled up in front of the television with a book and a heavy blanket, the volume of the television turned down low just to provide background noise other than the soft tick of the clock.

However, as fate would have it, on this particular day you decided not to mope at home. You took your favourite book, locked up the apartment, and wandered into the cool evening. It was getting dark, but King’s Row was busy enough that you weren’t particularly worried about being outside alone. You had your phone, and your credit card, and a surprising spring to your step, as if your spontaneous decision had breathed you to life. 

Without really thinking about it, you caught the bus, and on a whim stepped off at the docks. You wandered down the pier to sit on the very edge; there was something so calming about the hush of waves, and the kiss of water gently lapping at the edge of the boats. Why hadn’t you come here before? You didn’t have an answer. You vaguely wished you had sooner, at least to get out of the apartment, but blew the thought away because it was pointless to dwell on. You lay back on the pier, and held your book above your face, a very risky move, but one you were willing to take. You must have been there for hours. You only jerked yourself awake when you felt your book slipping through your fingers, seconds away from thumping onto your face. Sitting up, you checked the time on your phone, but not its battery life.

Misfortune reared its head, sniffing the air, poised to strike.

“Shit,” you grumbled. It was 1 fucking am. Great. No buses ran at that time, at least in the area, genius. What the fuck were you going to do? Get a taxi, you guessed. Only...yes. Yes, your phone had just died. You pressed frantically at the screen, as if that would do any good, but were met with a red filled battery sign. You felt like your phone was laughing at you. For a short while you swung your legs back and forth, teeth drawing blood from biting your lip so hard, and folded your arms as you thought. Don’t get hysterical. Do NOT get hysterical. You weighed your options; credit card, no cash, dead phone, no buses. Walking back to your apartment was out of the question, so you simply sat and thought, and thought and sat. Nothing came to mind.

Misfortune guided Sleep to wrap you in its embrace, and you suddenly became aware just how exhausted you were. You were no use to yourself while on the verge of passing out, so you got to your wobbly feet and began walking back across the pier. The morning would come to your rescue, and a hot shower at home would wash the experience right off you. You could maybe get a hotel? But then again, you didn’t have any idea where nearby ones were. Confining yourself to a tiny patch in King’s Row hadn’t done you a single favour. You were lucky, or unlucky, to have found the docks by jumping off the bus randomly. 

Misfortune grinned in the dark.

You paused for a second at the cluster of boats at the end of the docks and an inexplicable pull tugged you towards them. Fate? Misfortune? It didn’t matter, because you reached one at the very end, oddly far from the others, that took your fancy. Whatever name that had once been painted painstakingly on the side was lost to a haphazard scrawl that read ‘The Payload’. What a name for a boat. Before you knew what you were doing, you clambered onto it, planting your feet wide apart as it rocked very slightly. It looked as if it was once in good condition, but had fallen on hard times recently. Very hard times, you thought, as you traced the chips in the wood floor. In a way, it was sad to see what you imagined had been a beautiful boat, turn into a beat up mess. You turned and saw the door to a cabin, and for a reason you couldn’t quite explain, you pulled on the handle. The door swung open. Open? Yeah, that wasn’t terrifying or anything. You half expected a serial killer to jump out and hack you to pieces, but your demise was never delivered. What idiot would leave an unlocked boat unattended? Come to think of it, it was docked by the barest string of rope and you were surprised it hadn’t floated off. Maybe the owner had abandoned it but couldn’t be bothered getting rid. You shrugged and moved to leave.

Then again...what’s the saying, another man’s trash is another man’s treasure?

You went back into the cabin and shut the door behind you, wishing you had a key. Ah, well, couldn’t be picky. The worn excuse for bed looked a complete mess of blankets and burst pillows, but when you sat down the mattress was pleasantly soft. Just ignore the germs. Sure, you were staying in a random boat in a random place, but honestly, you were too tired to care. It was either that, or walk for hours and hours until you could hopefully stumble across your apartment. Which, let’s be honest, you weren’t going to do. There was a heavy locked chest at the other side of the room, and you got the bright idea to drag it over in front of the door. Bloody hell, what on earth is in this thing? There! It would take a good few kicks and a lot of determination to get through now; your aching muscles were testament to that. Unless you were so unfit that the barest amount of exercise exhausted your noodle arms.  
Why were you stalling? Well, it wasn’t every day you found yourself having to sleep in a stranger’s boat, if it wasn’t abandoned, that is. C’est le vie, and all that. You decided to just bite the bullet and climbed onto the bed, laying down your coat to avoid sleeping on the blankets. Sleep would make everything better. 

Misfortune pulled away, its work done.

***

“Keep up if ya can, pig face!” Junkrat screeched as the pair raced through the streets, the whine of sirens slicing into what would have otherwise been a peaceful night. The pair of men were laden with bags of gold and cash, clearly ill begotten judging from the crush of police cars hot on their tail. 

“Where is it?” growled Roadhog, thundering on the ground with such force it was a wonder the earth didn’t shake. 

“Hold on, mate, let me just...” Junkrat suddenly stopped in his tracks, and was nearly knocked flat by the other man.

“You’ve forgotten where it is? Idiot.”

“Now, just...just hold on,” Junkrat babbled, and shifted his bags from one arm to the other. “We went right here, yeah? Or left?” He shielded his eyes with his free hand as if to block out the sun, and whatever he saw had him jumping up and down like a spring. “There! It’s there!”

He wasted no time in sprinting towards the docks, or rather, as best he could when weighed down with satchels of gold. Roadhog huffed before following, albeit begrudgingly. They were masters of evasion by now, and the sirens grew fainter and fainter as the pair had dipped into side streets and hidden pathways. 

“Here?” Roadhog grumbled.

Junkrat sprang down the pier, his peg clacking incessantly and it was surely loud enough to wake any fool in the vicinity. Roadhog found himself asking aloud why he hadn’t kicked the living daylights out of him yet. The rat ignored him and jumped into the boat at the end that served as their crude little getaway vehicle. Roadhog did the same, and thumped down onto the bench. 

“Ready to blow this joint, Roadie?” Junkrat asked, eyes bright, a detonator in one hand.

“Get on with it.”

A little disappointed at the answer, Junkrat kicked the boat into gear, and when they were a safe enough distance away he clicked down the button of the detonator. “Kaboom!” The entire pier was obliterated and the ensuing flames licked up to the sky, hungrily devouring the remains. “Brings a tear to my eye, right, Roadie?”

“Shut. Up.”

Junkrat shrugged, and steered the boat into the night. Everything had gone just how he’d drawn it up, and there was no room for surprises. It was foolproof!

Well, almost.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been seven years since I last wrote a fanfic so please be kind! It's probably going to be a load of bollocks but I couldn't resist writing about the trash man. This is just a set-up chapter but I hope you guys like it :)


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